


The Caffrey Five

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Peter catches Neal attempting to steal a painting.  It is their first meeting since Neal faked his death following the arrest of the Pink Panthers.  Years of guilt and regret over his treatment of Neal during his parole leads Peter to chose Neal over the law.  Following this decision, Peter comes clean first to Elizabeth and then Neal about his regrets.  In the end, Neal and Peter reconcile and a new, better partnership is formed.





	The Caffrey Five

**Author's Note:**

> I had some problems with how Peter treated Neal, particularly in the fifth season where he acted more than a little hypocritical and holier than though. This is my attempt to reconcile the Peter I love and respected up to that season. I'm thinking of maybe making this the start of a series. Let me know if anyone is interested in more stories involving the Caffrey Five.

The Caffrey Five

“Freeze! FBI!” 

Even though he was half out of breath from the chase, the triumph in knowing he had caught his quarry was evident in his voice. For the past several minutes, Peter had pursued the thief as he ran down the darkened tunnels beneath the museum. At the last intersection, the thief dressed all in black hesitated before choosing to take the left branch. That decision turned out to be a poor one. 

With his back to Peter, the man’s shoulders slumped knowing the solid wall in front of him meant he was trapped with nowhere left to run. And with the stolen painting inside a cardboard tub slung over his shoulder, Peter had the man dead to rights. It was only now a matter of slapping on the cuffs.

Keeping his gun trained steadily in front of him, Peter ordered the man to raise his hands. In compliance, the man extended his arms up and away from his body to demonstrate he was unarmed. Then the man slowly turned to face his captor and all of Peter’s feelings of triumph and exhilaration deflated in an instance like air escaping from a popped balloon.

The gun dropped to his side instantly as Peter stared in disbelief. It was like seeing a ghost and since the man before him had been declared dead…

“Neal?” Peter voice croaked.

Minutes earlier…

As he rolled up the Vermeer, Neal felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was off. He was being watched and Neal had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who was out there. Neal muttered a curse under his breath. He never should have accepted this job knowing he didn’t have the time to properly make plans; knowing he would be forced to improvise if anything went wrong. Knowing that if something did go wrong and he failed…someone would die.

Neal had tried to explain to his employers the special risk involved in choosing New York City. There were other Vermeer paintings he had told them. His employers had insisted there was no time to change locations and had laughed at the notion that one federal agent could derail their plans. But it was Peter out there watching as Neal slung the cardboard tub over his shoulders With a deep breath, Neal did what he did best…he ran.

Neal ran as hard and as fast as he could. Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the chase. Peter had always been his only true equal; the only one who could keep up with him let alone actually capture him. Testing each other to see who really was best at the game was a secret pleasure neither wanted to admit to. With the anklet on, Neal had tried to at least curtail some of his criminal behavior and Peter had managed at times to almost become one, but in the end they each had boundaries even if they were sometimes blurred. And the thought that Neal really could change--well, that was just a fantasy they allowed themselves while having to work together. Neither really believed it was possible.

Footsteps gaining on him spurred Neal to move faster than he wanted to. It was dark and damp in the tunnels making footing treacherous. Skidding around a turn, he could barely make out a fork ahead. A moment of panic overtook him knowing that he had to make a choice: either right or left. He had been down here yesterday scouting the area and he knew one of the forks eventually led back up to the street while the other dead ended. But there had been more than one fork and in the heat of the chase, Neal had lost track of exactly where he was. Knowing he had to make a decision, he chose left and soon realized his mistake, but it was too late. Peter was closing in and the solid stone wall before him prevented him from running any further.

Without turning around, he knew Peter was there, gun in hand, ready to arrest him. Neal hung his head in defeat. He had failed. 

“Freeze! FBI!” 

Turning to face Peter, Neal’s heart raced with fear knowing what his failure meant. The triumph in Peter’s face quickly turned to an expression of shock. Then Peter lowered his gun. 

“Neal?” 

Neal took a step forward to see how Peter would react but the agent held his ground. Holstering his gun, Peter held out his hand to stop Neal from approaching any further. 

“Peter, I’m sorry,” Neal said clenching his hands. “You can’t take me in.”

With a sigh, Peter ran his hand over his face. This was not how he had imagined their reunion to go. “I’m sorry, Neal, but you’re under arrest.”

Seeing Peter reach for his handcuffs, Neal stepped back. “No Peter, please, you can’t do this!” 

It wasn’t like Neal to beg and the desperation in Neal’s voice stopped Peter in his tracks. In irritation, he yelled at him, “Neal, I have you on video stealing the Vermeer! You have the damn painting on your back for Christ sake! There is no plausible deniability here! You’ve left me no choice!”

“You’re right,” Neal admitted. “I stole the painting.” Neal held up a hand to stop Peter from speaking. “I don’t have time to explain it to you, but you have to let me go.”

“Let me guess, it’s a matter of life or death,” Peter said sarcastically.

“Yes, it is,” Neal said simply. He willed himself to maintain eye contact with Peter; giving the agent time hopefully to conclude that Neal was telling him the truth.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “You said once you would never lie to me.”

Neal nodded feeling hope he could convince Peter he wasn’t lying to him now. “And except for when Elizabeth asked me to, I never have.”

“You faked your own death,” Peter argued.

“I left you clues to find me,” Neal immediately countered.

“Do you know what you are asking me to do?” Peter sighed rubbing the back of his neck.

Neal’s eyes remained locked with Peter’s. “I do,” he answered simply. They both knew if he let Neal go, it was likely the end of Peter’s FBI career.

For a long moment, Peter continued to stare at Neal as if he could will more answers from him. When it became obvious none were forthcoming, Peter made his decision and stepped away from the door. Neal was free to run.

Neal stood frozen finding it almost impossible to believe Peter was letting him go. It nearly brought tears to Neal’s eyes knowing exactly what it meant. For a moment, he wanted to stay to explain himself, but in the end, he had to go and time was not on his side. If he didn’t leave in the next few minutes, his employer would miss the deadline, the mission would fail, and someone would die. So with a grateful nod, Neal ran.  
*****

Jones found Peter a short time later back in the museum. Staring down at an object that he was turning over and over in his hand, Peter didn’t immediately acknowledge Jones’ presence. Stepping closer, Jones proceeded with his report taking note that the object in Peter’s hand was his badge. “I’m sorry, boss, the tunnel led back up to the street. He got away.”

Peter continued to stare at his badge. “It was Neal.”

“Caffrey?” Jones exclaimed in disbelief. 

Peter continued in an eerily calm voice. “And he didn’t get away. I let him go.”

Confused as much by his boss’ tone as by the words themselves, Jones remained silent, trying to find the right words. Before he could think of what to say, Peter finally looked up and caught his eye. He held them for a moment before first handing over his gun and then his badge. 

Witnessing Jones stunned expression, Peter gave an apologetic shrug and said, “This has been a long time coming, don’t you think?”  
*****

The following evening, Peter was outside in the backyard, nursing a second beer. He had been out there for some time and Elizabeth was starting to worry. He had typed up his incident report earlier in the day and sent it via email to his supervisor. Although no response had been received, they both knew it was likely the end of his time with the bureau. 

Standing in the doorway, Elizabeth watched Peter closely. He didn’t look particularly upset, but more contemplative. So lost in thought, it took Peter a minute to look up and register Elizabeth hanging in the doorway. 

“Something on your mind?” he asked curious about the neutral look on her face. Typically, he could get a read on his wife. Not this time. Ever since he had told her about the night before, she had refused to give an opinion on his actions instead keeping her thoughts to herself. 

“Your future,” she answered simply. “You’ve identified with being an FBI agent for over twenty years. Are you really okay with leaving that life behind?”

Peter frowned, “You think I made a mistake.”

Elizabeth stared hard at her husband but turned the question back on him. “Do you think you made a mistake?”

“No, I don’t,” he responded without hesitation. 

Elizabeth nodded her approval. “Good.”

Peter was surprised. “Good?”

“You and I both know that you haven’t been happy these last few years.”

Finishing the beer with one long swig, Peter voiced something he had thought he had hid from everyone except obviously his very smart wife. “You’re right. It hasn’t been the same.”

“You’ve missed him.”

“I’ve missed my partner.”

“And…” Elizabeth prompted, hands on her hip.

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “And my friend.”

“So what’s really on your mind? Hon, talk to me,” she pleaded seeing the distressed look on her husband’s face. Grabbing herself a beer from the cooler by Peter’s feet, she handed it to Peter before taking a seat next to him.

Looking off because frankly he wasn’t sure he could make his confession any other way, Peter unloaded everything on his mind.

“You know how much guilt I had when I thought Neal was dead. How I blamed myself for not protecting him. How I felt like I had let him down. Hell, how I thought I had disappointed you. How could you expect me to protect our baby when I couldn’t even protect my partner?” Elizabeth nodded. She remembered all too well the dark days following Neal’s funeral. She took Peter’s hand to encourage him to continue.

“When I found out he was alive and the initial relief wore off, I realized I still had a hell of a lot to answer for. I was supposed to be his partner and friend.”

El interrupted, “You were that and more for him.”

Sadly, Peter shook his head, “Take a hard look at my actions, El. Kate was the love of his life, and I hid her from him. I didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t steal the pink diamond. I accused him of stealing the Nazi treasure and despite a polygraph; I still didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t. I brought Kramer and Collins into his life and nearly got him killed. I told him to his face that I thought of him as a criminal just before pawning him off on Siegal. Do we even need to talk about just how much I fucked up the entire James situation?!” 

Feeling increasingly restless and agitated, Peter stood up and paced before her. “I replayed so many scenes in my head. I found myself seeing things in a whole new light and came to realize what a fucking hypocrite I was. Neal once told me that the ends only justified the means when it was to the FBI’s benefit. El, he was right. When it was for a case, I sanctioned his cons. I allowed him—no I encouraged him-- to break the law. And my career reaped the benefits.” 

Elizabeth interrupted. “In fairness, hon, during your time together, Neal stepped out of bounds on his own and for his own benefit too.”

Peter abruptly stopped his pacing and vehemently shook his head. “That’s the thing, El. None of it was for his benefit! He stole the music box to save Kate. He stole and made a copy of the Haustenberg painting so that the original could be returned to its rightful heir. Neal didn’t steal the Nazi treasure, Mozzie did. Neal only hid that fact from me to protect Mozzie. As soon as your life was on the line, Neal freely gave up the treasure to save you. He stole for Alex. He hacked into a bank account and fraudulently spent money not his own in order to help Sara. He stole the coins and forged his father’s confession to save me. Are you seeing a pattern? For him, those ends justified the means and all I ever did was lecture him, tell him how disappointed I was in him, and my personal favorite-- threaten to put him back in prison.” 

El rose to stand in front of her husband, placing a hand on his shoulder to make him face her. “Peter, I don’t think it was as black and white as that.” 

Peter let out a bitter laugh, “Do you want to talk about something black and white? The first week we worked together I asked him to trust me, and he did. But when he asked me if I trusted him, El, I didn’t answer him. Trust--there’s your black and white issue and it was always our problem. I never really trusted him. Oh, I trusted him when it came to the work, but I never extended that same level of trust to his personal life. From the moment the anklet went on, I never allowed him to have any real say in his own life. I thought I knew what was best for him instead of trusting him to make the right decisions. That was my mistake and my biggest regret. And I told myself if given the chance, I wouldn’t make that same mistake again.”

El was silent as she absorbed all that Peter had told her. Reaching for his hand, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You need to tell him all that,” El said and then added, “Before it really is too late.”

“I think I just did,” Peter answered taking another swig and pointing with the bottle to the lone tree in their backyard.

Without a word, Neal dropped to the ground and sheepishly strolled over.

A squeal of delight escaped Elizabeth as she rushed over and hugged Neal. Despite having Peter show her the evidence in the storage unit of Neal’s survival, it didn’t compare to seeing with her own eyes an alive and well Neal.

Pulling back, she poked him in the chest. “Don’t you ever, ever do something like that ever again!”

Neal looked contrite. “I’m sorry.” Shoving his hands into his jeans, Neal kept his eyes just short of Peter’s. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Every word!” Peter said before grabbing Neal and pulling him into a bear hug. He felt tears sting his eyes. Like his wife, knowing Neal was alive and seeing him standing before him were two very different things. It felt like he was being given a second chance with his friend and this time he was determined not to mess it up.

Peter released Neal and stepped back when he noticed the young man wasn’t returning his embrace. “Neal? What’s the matter?”

“I think we need to talk,” Neal said finally meeting Peter’s gaze. “Elizabeth was right. The world isn’t black and white and your view of things is somewhat clouded by guilt. All those cons I pulled whether it was for the FBI or to help a friend, I loved it, Peter. There’s a certain rush, an addictive high that came with playing the game; especially when it involved testing you. It was something I wasn’t ready to give up no matter how much you wanted me to.”

Seeing Elizabeth nod, Neal turned and raised a finger silencing her. “Peter was also right in that he never trusted me and that hurt and stung more than either of you will ever know.” Maintaining eye contact with Elizabeth, Neal continued, “Especially when I heard Peter discourage Jones from taking me on as a CI when Peter was set to go to DC.” Neal looked down and bounced anxiously on his feet. “I believe your words were: ‘Trust me, you’ll regret it.’”

Elizabeth was stunned. “Peter, did you--?” 

Hanging his head, Peter could only nod. Neither Neal nor Peter seemed to know what to say next so Elizabeth stepped forward and took each of their hands.

“Seems to me that you have both made mistakes in the past, but maybe it’s time to move forward? Peter, you don’t have a badge, and Neal, you don’t have an anklet. For the first time ever, you are on equal ground.” 

Peter silently thanked God for his wife. She always had a knack for bringing him and Neal together when their partnership frayed. He was about to tell Neal he was sorry when Neal started laughing. Looking at him, he saw a familiar mischievous sparkle in Neal’s eye. It gave Peter a flare of hope.

“Uh, oh,” Peter said narrowing his eyes, “I know that look. What are you thinking?”

Neal put his hands in his pockets and rocked in excitement. “You need a job, and you have a certain skill set that my employer would find useful.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Your employer. Are you telling me that your antics are sanctioned?”

Neal took on a sheepish expression as he shrugged. “I can’t really answer that. What my team does may or may not be classified and you may or may not have the proper clearances.”

“Uh, huh,” Peter responded dryly. “Your team. So I would be working for you, I suppose.”

Neal’s smile was big and bright, “You would. Think you could handle taking my orders for a change?”

While Peter pretended to mull it over, Elizabeth smacked him on the arm and declared, “Yes, yes, he could!”

Both Peter and Neal laughed. Then Neal sobered. “Peter? Are you sure? My world is very, very gray.”

Peter nodded, “I am.”

Elizabeth grabbed fresh beers and handed them out. “We need a toast,” she stated happily.

“To trust,” Peter said.

Neal spoke up next, “To the Caffrey Four.”

“Is that like the Burke Seven?” Peter asked clearly amused.

Neal grinned, “There are some similarities.”

“To the Caffrey Five,” Elizabeth corrected. 

With raised brows, Neal and Peter exchanged a look before coming to the same conclusion. Elizabeth was a force to be reckoned with and had time and again proven her worth. No doubt, she would be a valuable member of the team; not to mention that neither Neal nor Peter had the guts to tell her no.

Gathering round each held up their beer in salute.

“To the Caffrey Five,” they said in unison.


End file.
